The Journey
by Wolfsong's Rebel
Summary: At look through Farah's eyes during her adventure with the Prince.


Okay, no one laugh, but this idea came to me while I was in the shower, and I just had to get it down. I said no one laugh. I have an over-active imagination. My brain never shuts off, seriously. Anyway, just wanted to get the beginning down. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer note: i don't 'own' the game or its characters

Story: The Journey. Author: Fire Chapter one: Mornings capture

It was a beautiful morning in the desert country of India. Sun rays passed through curtained windows to warm the room within. The young Indian princess stirred in her bed, welcoming her morning intruder. Farah stood from her large oval bed and stifled a yawn before pushing the curtains encasing her bed back. She walked barefoot across the marbled floor to stand at her window. She opened the metal incased glass door and walked onto her balcony. The view from here was extraordinary. She could see clear across the land her father owned. She stood and gazed at it for a while longer. Soon, though, she realized she needed to dress and head to her father's throne room where she would sit dutifully at his side.

After her morning necessities were finished, Princess Farah headed down to find a quick breakfast before joining her father. She climbed down many stairs, all of which had many halls that led to more halls and more stairs. Her father's palace was huge, and old. Finally, she reached a kitchen area where she gathered a piece of bread, some cheese, and room warmed milk. She took these, smiling pleasantly to the servants working there and left.

Farah walked along the halls until she found one leading outside. As the daughter of the Maharaja, she knew every, if not most, of the areas, rooms and halls within the castle. She had played in them as a child, having adventures that grew from a wild imagination. She remembered how the servants charged with watching her fretted and disdained every new idea that came to her young mind. She had run them crazy chasing after her, they always fearing what her father might do had they not found her, or had not found her in good condition.

Farah pondered these memories as she walked through one of the many gardens. She sat down on a stone bench near a pond filled with native fish. She placed the cannister of milk beside her and quietly nibbled at the bread and cheese. Out here, the sun could reach her easier than in her room. She loved the feel of it on her skin. After finishing the milk and cheese, and tossing a couple of small pieces of bread to the fish and the birds around her, Farah stretched out on the stone bench, tensing ever so slightly at its cold touch on her skin. Soon she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the sun had changed many positions. Morning was long past, and noon had crept in. She had never made it to her father's side. She knew he would be upset, but once she had explained everything, falling asleep in one of her father's beautiful gardens, she knew he would understand. It had happened before, likely would again, and hadn't he told her once he had had a problem of falling asleep on this very bench when he was her age? Knowing she should eventually join him, Farah stood, stretched mightily and headed once again to her father's throne room.

As she walked along the hallways, she heard loud commotions. Something, some strange scent, began filling her nostrils. Smoke, her brain told her. Could one of the kitchens, for they had many, be on fire? She rushed back to the kitchen she had stopped in but hours ago. No flames filled the room. _'But where could the smell of smoke be coming from if not here?'_ her mind asked itself. She headed back out to the garden, knowing a shortcut from there to the throne room, another tale her father had told her about.

She made her way along more halls and rooms, meeting none of her father's guards or warriors. Even the servants had seemed to disappear. The loud commotions she had heard in the garden had gotten louder, and now she was starting to see smoke in the sky, darkening what had been a beautiful blue. She neared the building that held her father's throne room and climbed a set of stairs that led to an upper level. She would hate it if she walked in on her father during an important meeting with some tribesman or leader. She would be able to ascertain what was going on before she entered.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite make it to the throne room before she realized what was going on. Soldiers, both in her native armor and others dressed in foreign blue, waged war on each other. Many small battles went on, sword and spear and club arching to strike an opponent or to block from a deadly blow. Her home had been invaded! Now she had to get to her father and help him whatever way she could.

After retrieving her bow and quiver full of arrows, Farah silently made her way to the throne room, now knowing why she hadn't seen any of their servants about. They had all been captured. Slowly she made her way up the stairs again that led to the upper level of the throne room, very aware any archer might spot her and claim her before she reached her destination.

Like a shadow, she made her way into the palace's most revered room. In the hallway she stopped, hearing something in the distance. The sound, she determined were boot falls, many of them, grew closer. Someone, or several someones, were headed right for her. Clumsily, she felt her way out and towards the nearest room to hide in. This room was also on the upper level and farther down from the door she had entered, but Farah knew unless someone looked really hard they would never find her here. She hunkered down in the shadows, bow held tightly, and waited. She could still hear the boot falls of soldiers. She would not know when they had passed or if they had stopped unless she opened the door. And as of right now, she wished not to do that, fearing anyone outside of the door would hear her wildly beating heart and capture her.

It seemed like days had gone by waiting in the tiny hidden room. She was absently grateful she was not claustrophobic. Her heart had slowed significantly and no longer pounded painfully against her chest. She knew she should check and see if any soldiers stood at her door, knowing she should be helping her father. A part of her, the scared little girl in her, knew her father, a fine warrior, would be able to fend for himself, but the responsible, faithful daughter who loved her father kept screaming at her to take action. Giving in to the stronger, more dominate side of her, Farah crept towards the door.

She opened it slightly, light creeping into the darkened room. No soldiers stood within sight and she was curious has to what had become of her people. Feeling a little braver, she inched from her hiding spot and moved closer to the railing. What she saw when she peered over the side astounded her. Soldiers in blue stood over the bodies of soldiers in red as a tall well built man talked with another, more serpentine man. She recognized his face. Her father's vizier! They were discussing something, standing near her father's prized possession. The Hourglass of Time. They were too far away for her to hear anything they might have said, but she was able to make out animals, her father's animals, in cages, slaves, male and female, chained together. All ready to be taken away as plunder for this tyrant, a king if the crown said anything, and his soldiers.

All of a sudden all attention was directed to the entrance of a younger man. Slim built this one was, dressed in a blue shirt and white, and in her opnion, very puffy pants, the young man approached the king and the traitorous vizier. The brown haired man held out a dagger to show his companions. Farah recognized the weapon for it was no mere dagger. It was the Dagger of Time, a relic that should have been locked away somewhere in her father's palace where only he could go and gaze upon it. Obviously this young man had found it, and wanting to pleased his king and his need for glory, stole the dangerous item. She feared what his incompetence may bring forth if he ever learned of that daggers powers.

Enthralled by the scene taking place in the throne room, and concentrating hard on trying to pick up any of the conversation, Farah never heard the footsteps coming towards her and stop directly behind her. Her back pressed to the wall so that she could peer around the corner of the stone support, her bow was trapped and she was unable to reach it before the soldier had her in his grasps. She struggled, but he was stronger than she, and she was thoroughly captured.

Well, what do you think? Does it have the makings of anything, or was it trash? Do be gentle as i have not written many pop stories and have not played the game for a substantial period of time. I plan, however to remedy that. Don't know when the next chapter will be up. I get so caught up in writing on all my other stories and reading and life, i don' t normally take the time to type anything, which is really bad because i have a lot to type. Also, we really don't know what the palace looks like, so just go with me, and surely they have kitchens with food. It's one of those things you only see in a SIMS game. And room warmed milk isn't half that bad. I had it every morning when I was in Israel. Oh, well, it'll get done some day. Thanks for reading and stay tuned.


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